


Target Practice

by mx1_jawbreaker



Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Body mutilation, Bondage, Bugs & Insects, Death, Gross, Immortal, Murder, Murder Kink, Torture, Whump, child characters committing violence, death kink, immortal oc has a kink for dying, whump without a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 01:21:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20381335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mx1_jawbreaker/pseuds/mx1_jawbreaker
Summary: The last knife sliced into Finn’s bicep, sending a spray of blood directly into his face as the tip skimmed over his skin. It embedded itself into his muscles for a moment, then the weight of the handle dragged it free and the knife clattered against the blood-splattered roots below. Blood began to trickle freely down his arm, joining the other half-dried rivulets.‘this is what happens when you get too cocky,’Finn told himself, committing the scene to memory.‘you end up like this.’Though, in a way, hadn’t he wanted this? Purposefully putting himself in danger. Something that would let him lose control, breaking through the everyday monotony and bring back life’s veneer.Finn belongs toapolymorphous.





	Target Practice

Three knives thudded into Finn in quick succession. Two embedded themselves into his torso — one cutting through the thin skin of his stomach and finding its new home among his internal organs, while the other slid neatly between the gaps in his ribcage, piercing his lung and causing Finn’s breath to come out in a soft _ah_. 

_ _The last knife sliced into Finn’s bicep, sending a spray of blood directly into his face as the tip skimmed over his skin. It embedded itself into his muscles for a moment, then the weight of the handle dragged it free and the knife clattered against the blood-splattered roots below. Blood began to trickle freely down his arm, joining the other half-dried rivulets. _ _

_ _Finn flinched slightly as the blood hit his cheek — droplets landed in his open mouth, adding to the sticky, dried film that had formed there. _ _

_ _Horseflies swarmed around him, crawling on the silver bit that was forcing his mouth open. Buzzing filled his head as the flies crawled over his cracked lips, moving into his mouth to crawl over his gums and explore what little food had been left between his teeth. The ones who hadn’t roosted in his hair or somewhere on his face had moved to explore the gashes across his chest, dipping their tongues into the tacky blood like hundreds of small, stinging kisses. _ _

_ _In an unintended act of mercy, Finn’s eyes were protected from the flies. Blinders had been secured over his face, blocking his vision so that every new knife hit him by surprise. They always came in multiples of four, and Finn waited impatiently for the final knife. _ _

_ _‘this is what happens when you get too cocky,’_ Finn told himself, committing the scene to memory. _‘you end up like this.’ _ _

_ _Though, in a way, hadn’t he wanted this? Purposefully putting himself in danger. Something that would let him lose control, breaking through the everyday monotony and bring back life’s veneer. _ _

_ _He writhed against his bonds slightly — the burning itch in his stomach was intense, like somebody had threaded a fishing hook behind his navel and was wiggling the string. It wasn’t painful, but it felt like he was being disemboweled in slow motion. _ _

_ _Something solid brushed up against Finn’s arm as he squirmed, giving him a second to prepare himself before an open hand connected with his cheek. His eardrum popped from the sudden pressure, replacing the buzzing sound of flies with a high pitched whine. _ _

_ _Flies rushed out of his mouth — the ones who were too laden down with gore popped against this teeth, spilling his own blood back into his mouth. Fresh blood mingled with the bodies of the dead flies, tickling the back of his throat as he gagged. _ _

_ _He tried to take a breath, but blood poured into his lungs — correction, into his one good lung — and Finn’s body spasmed. Blood bubbles burst in his mouth as he tried to spit, but his tongue was forced down by the metal bit, and all he could do was thrash. _ _

_ _A hand roughly grabbed the back of his head — their fingers hooked into the long gash that split his skull, sending new waves of pain through his head and into his jaw. Neon lights began to pop in Finn’s vision, spiraling into pinpricks of white dots, which gradually began to fill his vision. His lungs refused to inflate, and pain bloomed in his left shoulder as his heart started it’s final death throes. _ _

_ _This wasn’t quite it, but he was close. It was like an itch that he couldn’t scratch. Something that could only be satisfied by— _ _

_ _Something sliced through his ear as the ropes holding his head to the tree went slack, and the hand roughly pushed his head down. Lukewarm blood and dead flies poured out of his mouth, splashing over his chest. A fist punched him in the sternum, forcing blood and air from his throat as he coughed, clearing his windpipe enough for him to take a shallow, shaky breath. _ _

_ _Finn felt the bit slipped free from his mouth, ringing as it struck the tree roots below. The blinders followed soon after. Rolling his head to the side, Finn struggling to see through the black and gray spots in his vision as he looked at his surroundings. _ _

_ _Three people sat nearby, running bloody rags over their knives as they stared back at Finn. They couldn't have been older than 12 — baby fat still clung to their cheeks as they whispered amongst themselves, breaking into snickers as one of them told a funny joke. _ _

_ _Padrow stood in front of him, both hands on his cheeks as she tilted his head back up so that he was only looking at her. She smiled sadistically, spitting something out in Russian before patting Finn’s cheek — he got the sense that she’d praised him._ _

_ _Dropping Finn’s head, Padrow stepped back and plated a boot against his chest. Finn’s eyes crossed slightly as his punctured lung screamed in pain, then Padrow grabbed a knife in each hand and ripped them free from his chest. Blood splattered her face in a fine mist, and she laughed._ _

_ _Blood dribbled from his mouth as Padrow continued to yank the knives free. His limbs reflexively twitched against the ropes, but Finn’s eyes drooped shut and his head lolled with each wet _shhk_ — better to let Padrow think she was playing with a corpse. _ _

_ _Padrow grunted as the final knife came free from Finn’s side. Her breathing was labored, and she left her hand on Finn’s chest for a moment as she composed herself. Bloodied fingers tangled themselves in the tattered remains of his shirt, slipping underneath his collar and resting above his heart. _ _

_ _For a moment, neither moved. Finn focused on taking small breaths through his nose, just enough that his lungs burned, but not enough that he would actually begin to suffocate. He waited, wondering if Padrow could feel his heart. _ _

_ _Electric pain shot through his side, and Finn’s chest burned as a pathetic scream worked its way out. Padrow shoved her hand deeper into Finn’s wound, wiggling her fingers as he futilly struggled against the ropes. His eyes fluttered as he felt nails scrape against raw flesh. _ _

_ _Padow snickered, digging her fingers into the wound one more time before pulling out with a wet, sucking noise. _ _

_ _The ringing was so loud in Finn’s ears that he couldn’t understand if Padrow was speaking Russian, or if she’d switched to English. It all blended together in a swirl of rambling nonsense until Padrow’s tinny voice finally broke through: “—and yes, tourist?” _ _

Finn’s vision blurred as he fought to raise his head. He tried to speak, but all that came out was a breathless whisper — _“h. . . ah?” _

_ _Padrow grabbed a handful of hair, forcing Finn’s head up so that he was staring at the kids gathered around him. Closer, Finn could see that they all bore a striking resemblance to Padrow — platinum blonde hair, gangly frames that bordered on looking malnourished, and the same stone gray eyes. The only difference was that Padrow’s eyes had a mad, feverish light as she stared Finn down. _ _

_ _A knife slipped underneath Finn’s chin, settling against his jugular as Padrow continued to lecture the kids. She moved the knife across his throat, just barely letting it catch on his skin as she used the tip to mark where Finn’s carotid artery was. _ _

_ _Even with the language barrier, Finn understood the lesson. He’d cut his fair share of throats and knew the motions. A smooth, clean cut to sever the carotid artery — from left to right, preferably — and making sure to clip both the internal and external jugular veins along the way. Without the proper technique, a victim could easily survive having their throat cut. _ _

_ _Finn’s vision had tunneled into almost nothing. He could see a pinprick of white as Padrow maneuvered his head, but everything had melded into the fuzzy static that came right before finally dying. His senses were slowly fading out. _ _

_ _The knife burned against his skin as it was dragged across his neck — the intense pain momentarily lifting the fog from his mind, clearing his eyes as he looked at the children’s blank faces hovering around him. Time slowed as Finn blinked, and a thick stream of blood jetted out, splashing against the closest child’s jacket._ _

_ _A freezing chill ran through Finn’s body as blood began to pour down his chest. The knife bit into his neck again with a quick, sharp slash, and Finn felt himself involuntarily gasp as his windpipe was cut open. _ _

_ _His body convulsed, eyes rolling back as his final breaths bubbled from his bloodied mouth. One of the children screamed — something struck him across his face, causing Padrow’s grip loosen and Finn’s head fell forward into his chest. His eyes stared blankly at the ground, watching as flies swarmed around the base of the bloody tree. _ _

_ _There wasn’t much left of him to bleed out. Finn’s vision filled with darkness as the pain faded, and a serene calm settled in his body as his heart finally stilled. If he had any breath left, he would have sighed in bliss. _ _

_ _That was it. That hit the spot._ _

**Author's Note:**

> i told myself that i was going to stop writing so much gore, but then i got the idea of using my friend's immortal oc as target practice and went "hmmm" -- big thanks to [apolymorphous](https://twitter.com/apolymorphous) for letting me use her oc, Finn. He's a real gem to beat up. Her review of the fic was:
>
>> LISTEN SOMEONE WROTE A FIC FOR ME WHERE FINN GETS HIS G SPOT RAMMED BY BRUTALLY DYING AND THAT'S MAYBE THE BEST THING THAT WILL HAPPEN TO ME FOR YEARS.
> 
>   

>
>> FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME  
WHY IS THIS ONLINE
> 
>   

>
>> idk i feel like i've won. i've feel like i won life. this is fucking amazingly written gore. i can't fucking believe this
> 
> Ellie Padrow is the AU!version of my oc, Honey. You can read about her in [500HIR ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17791196), or I talk about her on my nsfw twitter: [mx1_jawbreaker ](https://twitter.com/mx1_jawbreaker).


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